Having had a recuperative weekend on Florida's Gulf Coast at Thanksgiving, we climbed out of the Pensacola Regional Airport at around 9:30 a.m. in a rented Piper Cherokee 180. We were headed for Pine Bluff, Arkansas, which was our refueling stop on the way home to Guthrie, Oklahoma. Before launching, I had obtained the weather, which promised no problems except 40- to 45-knot winds from the northwest for our second leg. Other than standard navigation equipment (VOR, ADF), we had a portable GPS. We filed IFR to get around various military operations areas (MOAs) in the area, and after a pleasant three hours, we landed at Pine Bluff and had lunch. We took off at about 2 o'clock and headed home for Guthrie.
We had filed for 6,000 feet to stay as low as possible since the winds were forecast to get stronger with altitude. Almost immediately we ran into strong headwinds. Our journey home was timed at three hours, and I had calculated that the winds might add 30 minutes to that — little did I know. By the time we got into the middle of Arkansas, heading west-northwest, our groundspeed was hovering between 60 and 65 knots. The airplane was indicating 120 knots, so we were looking at a headwind component of close to 60 knots. My wife commented that we were being passed by cars on the interstate below us.
Slowly we dragged along until finally, listening to chatter on the frequency, I heard someone say that the winds were more manageable at lower altitudes. I tried to request a lower altitude from ATC, without much success, and decided that since the weather was good, I would cancel my IFR flight plan and go VFR as low as I wanted — and choose a more direct route. This was necessary to conserve fuel, as we were using it at an alarming rate to fight the headwind. We tried 4,500 feet and eventually 3,000 feet, which yielded an 85-knot groundspeed.
By this time it was getting dark and we had been airborne for 3.5 hours. My GPS calculated that we had 30 minutes to our destination, and I calculated that we had an hour of fuel left in our two tanks, about 3 to 4 gallons in the left tank and about 6 to 8 in the right. I switched to the right tank, and we plowed on, finally seeing the town of Guthrie. Going through the landing checklist, I descended to 2,000 feet, while banking to the left. Meanwhile, I switched the fuel selector to what I thought was the fuller tank, the left.
At this point the engine, as well as some of my involuntary functions, stopped. The only thing moving in the cockpit was my brain, which went into overdrive.
There are moments of truth such as this — and I have had a couple — when you are in immediate danger of physical harm and it seems that the speed of thought increases. I think that it would take me pages to write what passed through my mind in the two or three seconds after the engine quit. A few of those thoughts were: How was I going to manage an emergency landing in the dark? What was the exact geography to the east of the airport? If I could get to the interstate, would there be much traffic? How was I going to explain myself to the FAA? What really good explanation could I give the aircraft owner? And, finally, the emergency checklist — first thing — fuel. The left tank is empty; go back to the right, which I did. Almost immediately the windmilling propeller started the engine again and we saw the lights of Guthrie Municipal Airport on our left.
We landed uneventfully, and I filled up both tanks. It turned out that there had been two gallons in the left tank and just over two in the right — roughly 25 minutes' worth of flying time. So I almost had legal fuel reserves for flying day VFR. I had never before been brought face to face with this theoretical VFR limitation, and it was alarming how close to empty it seems. My wife says that she still likes to fly with me, although she also said that she'll do it again in about five years.
The lessons that I learned may be obvious but are worth repeating. When faced with a weather problem such as strong headwinds, talk to flight service right away and try some different altitudes. Start calculating fuel early and plan a stop if it looks as though reserves will be tight. Do not trust the last couple of gallons of usable fuel in your tanks; they may not be immediately usable because of attitude or bank angle, and by then you might be close to the ground. Finally, a portable GPS can be a lifesaver — never leave home without it.
Charles J. Smith, AOPA 113370, of Boise, Idaho, is a 350-hour instrument-rated private pilot who rents a Piper Arrow.
"Never Again" is presented to enhance safety by providing a forum for pilots to learn from the experiences of others. Manuscripts should be typewritten, double-spaced, and sent to: Editor, AOPA Pilot, 421 Aviation Way, Frederick, Maryland 21701.
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